The Musician
by K.C Daring
Summary: Sequel to The Artist. When a talented and struggling musician meets an artist, he finds his present colliding with the past in a strange way. He must find a way to piece together the pieces of his past life to unlock the happiness of his future, and the answers lie with Sango.
1. Artist Muse and Melodies

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, all rights to the characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi.

Summary: When a talented and struggling musician meets artist, Sango, he finds his present colliding with the past. Dreams of a life that aren't his plague him nightly and when he wakens he finds himself slowly forgetting the names and faces of the people in his dreams. Intense headaches also start to ail him and Sango seems to be the key to it all.

Part One: Artistic Muse and Melodies

The room was oddly dark, even as the sun had already climbed high in the sky, and a fan hummed endlessly, as a young man slept in his bed. For the third time that morning the phone, that had been placed on the bedside table, began to vibrate incessantly. The man turned over in his bed, his indigo eyes slowly opened, and he stared up at the ceiling wondering what had awoken him. It only took him a moment to place the sound that came to his ears. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, before he grabbed the phone to answer it.

He slid the phone icon over and placed it's speaker to his ear, then spoke to the caller in a groggy voice. "Yeah? What's up Yuji?" He could make out the low, canine like growl of his friend on the other end. "Don't tell me you were still asleep? You should have been up at least two hours ago. You know we have a rehearsal today for that gig we booked. If you don't have the time you need to lollygag, you'll be late for sure." The man ran his fingers through his sleep touseled dark hair, brushing the stray hairs away from his face. "I do not lollygag, I merely seek inspiration to my next piece. The world around us is just filled with music and I need a little extra time to hear the melody."

The musician could nearly hear his friend's eye roll, not that he was bothered, most people didn't understand his need to dally and really absorb his surroundings. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm awake now, and I still have several hours to kill before rehearsals. I won't be late, I promise." The promise was an empty one, even Yuji knew that much, if the guy got wrapped up in his music, he'd lose all track of the time and of the vow he just made. "Oh yeah, sure you won't. I know you well enough to know you're completely full of it. You already know that you'll be hearing from me again, before the alloted time." The man chuckled, wholly aware of the truth behind his friend's words. "So I will. At least allow me a half hour to make it back when you call, I can only run so fast."

He hadn't had a chance to tell his annoyed friend farewell, before the other disconnetced the call. He shrugged it off as typical behavior to his tempermental companion and climbed out of bed to get dressed and start another day. It had been nearly three years since he had started his journey and his parents hadn't been all too pleased with his plans nor the waste in his college degree. He had tried to convince himself that his parent ideas of success were his own, but he found music far more fulfilling than business ever did. To be honest with himself, the common nine to five job seemed absolutely suffocating to him. So his back packing trip around the world took flight, even at his family's persisting he stay and learn the family business.

Despite being against his plan, his parents still wanted to make sure he had money. Yet he felt the need to decline, he needed to prove to himself, that he could make it out here on his own. Yes, they had convinced him to bring along a credit card for emegencies, mainly for their peace of mind, but he had only used it once in his earliest days of the journey and had paid the bill himself when he had the money. After dressing and packing his backpack with the few things he carried with him, he shut off the fan, and made his way out into the blinding morning sun.

It was another glorious day. The endless blue was dressed in the fluffliest of white cotton and the flowers were in full bloom and sweetly perfumed the air. Prague was lovely. The old town square and gothic churches came alive with the music of life. The hum of the voices, the rhythmic tapping of passersby steps, the lyrics of the birds, and the very heartbeat of the city. He shifted the heavy guitar case on his shoulder to get a better center of gravity. He decided he would go down to the river to see if he could make some extra cash. He found he really enjoyed playing along with the song the water would constantly play.

The river bank was bustling with tourist and locals alike, it flowed near the very heart of the city. He found a bench and made himself comfortable, before he breathed in the scent of the water that ran before him. To his far left a gothic church stretched out skywards, the sun creating rainbows on the stained glass. Seated just in front of it was an artist, she held a paint brush in her hand, but made no move towards the easel. A soft breeze caught her chocolate brown hair and created a shining stream of it's own and the musician felt the odd rush of familiarity. In that moment a dull headache began to throb behind his left eye. He chose to ignore the ache, instead he pulled the guitar from it's case, and immersed himself into the world of melodies.

He strummed on the cords and produced the sounds of songs he knew by heart. He often times would play covers of his favorites and instead opted to save his own works for the better paying gigs. He sang softly as a crowd began to form. People would casually toss loose change and small bills into the case as a small payment for his talents. They would come and go, their faces interchangable, the ears that listened always a fresh pair. Of course he enjoyed playing to a crowd, revelled in the applause, but he mostly played for the love of the music alone. He could lose himself within a melody for hours at a time and the world around him would fade from his view, until he was entirely alone.

He was so lost within the cords he played, that he hadn't even noticed that the artist had departed. He could have remained where he sat, had the infernal ringing of his phone not broken into his peaceful reverie. The song he was playing stopped abruptly and the crowd of people begun to dissipate around him. He sighed in defeat before answering the phone call. "Yes, Yuji?" He had taken to calling him the nickname in order to annoy him, but it stuck as it was less odd then his real name, Inuyuji. "Let me guess. You aren't even on your way here. Are you?" He pulled his phone away from his ear and sure enough, he only had half an hour to reach the pub.

He quickly began to pack his guitar back in the case, not even bothering to remove the cash he had accumulated. "No, no. I'm already headed that way. You didn't need to even bother calling me." The lie was an innocent one, he knew that Yuji had grown tired of his tardiness and his tendency to lose track of the time. The guy grumbled audibly, "You shouldn't even bother to spew that crap. I know you well enough by now. Just get here as soon as you can, we need the time to practice." He had already began to leave the park before he had even listened to his friend chastise him. "Alright, alright. I'm headed that way now, I promise. I'll get there on time, no problem." He hung up and began to sprint towards the pub, Yuji would bite his head off if he was late again.

The sidewalk was busy, he weaved in and out off the crowd, doing his best to avoid bumping into anyone. He was doing a good job of this, until his guitar case collided with a woman he passed by. She fell to the concrete, managing to catch herself with her hands, but losing a bunch of papers in the process. The musician came sliding to a stop, before he turned around to help her gather her pages. He stooped low and grabbed at the papers with the black and white sketches. He worked quickly and did all he could to gather them up before the breeze could carry them away. "I am so sorry, miss. I can be such a klutz sometimes. If only I had a better grasp on time when I'm playing, then I wouldn't be rushing around because I'm late all the time." He spoke in a rushed sort of way, not even aware that the woman stood unmoving above him.

He snatched up the last of her drawings and finally took notice at what he held in his hands. The sketch was very detailed, he could even seen the vein like lines in the leaves. "Wow. Did you draw these?" He glanced at a few others before adding, "They are really good." He noted the silence and began to wonder why she hadn't answered, perhaps she hadn't wanted him to look at them. He straightened up, could hear her gasp quietly but offered her the pages he held nonetheless. It only took a split second for the woman to grow pale and she stared at him with wide and startled eyes. "Um, miss? Are you quite alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?" The silence stretched awkwardly, she stared without speaking a single word, and the only move she made was to lift her hand to cover her gaping mouth.

Their eyes locked, her brown gaze was filled with hope, his violet ones with confusion, and the throbbing headache intensified behind his left eye again. The hand that held her drawings slowly began to drop and his concern for the artist merely began to grow. "Miss, I really must implore you to say something. Are you okay? I mean, you look like you've seen a ghost or something." He had no idea how true his words had rung, for she did feel as though she was face to face with a ghost of the past. She hadn't moved her hand away from her face and she blinked her wide eyes once before she swallowed hard. As though she was trying to rid herself of a lump that had formed in her throat and for the first time since he bumped into her, she spoke softly.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, had he not been so focused on her, he doubted he would have been able to hear those three syllables. "Miroku?" The name she spoke caused his head to pound that much harder, he had to press his fingers to his temples to keep the pain at bay. "I'm sorry, but I don't know who that is. I'm Masahiro." He could see disappointment creep into her chocolate brown eyes, he found something vaguely familiar about this woman. "Have we...have we met before?" Hope replaced the disappointment, but faded as quickly as it came. "I don't think so, you just reminded me of someone I used to know." He once again offered her the papers she had dropped and this time she took them. "I see. You just seemed a bit familiar is all. I have to run though. I'm late for rehearsals. I'm playing tonight at a pub, perhaps you might be able to come down and hear me play, since I got to see your drawings. It's only fair."

He dug in his backpack and produced a flyer with a band name and location. He held it out to her and although she was reluctant she did eventually take that as well. "Um, yeah. I suppose it is only fair." She offered him a friendly smile and he could feel his heart skip a beat. It wasn't normal for him to act like this around a woman he didn't even know. "Well maybe I'll see you there then. No pressure or anything." He returned her smile before turning to go, he paused for a second, and looked back at her from over his shoulder. "If you do come, bring those pages. I would love to see more of them, if you wouldn't mind sharing them with me." He gave a casual wave, before he disappeared into the crowd. Even with the half hour to get there, it looked as though he would be late anyway. Yuji wouldn't be all to pleased with him, but he would forgive him...eventually.

AN: I hope the wait for this sequel wasn't too long. I will try to finish this one quicker than I did The Artist, but I tend to get super busy as my personal life is crazy at times. Please leave a review, they really do make my day, and I will shot you out in the next chapter.


	2. Composition

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, all rights to the characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi.

Part Two: Composition

The pub was nearly empty, sans Inuyuji and Kameko. The pair stood upon a small stage, that was located near the back of the space. To the right was a large bar, with a shelf behind the countertop, that was lined with bottles of various colors, shapes, and sizes. They had already begun to set up their equipment, having decided to not wait on him to show up to help with the task. Yuji's, nearly golden, hazel eyes landed on him. A scowl was deeply etched on his face as his annoyance with his best friend rose to the surface. "It's about time you decide to grace us with your presense. You really shoud go back to being more prompt, like you used to be." Masahiro found it odd how often Yuji would talk about him as though they had known each other since childhood. The two had met in college and had quickly formed a very interesting bond.

The musician eyed him skeptically, a sarcastic comment rested on the tip of his tongue, but he decided to answer in a more straight forward manner. "I honestly don't know what you mean, I've always been the type to run late, you know this." Kameko patted her husband's arm in a comforting manner, as his golden gaze averted back to setting up the drum set. "Keh, I suppose you're right. I guess I'm just getting my memories a bit mixed up." The sad undertones in his voice were ignored, simply because they weren't understood, so Masahiro decided to give his reason for being a bit behind schedule. "Besides, I would have been on time today, if I hadn't bumped into this girl. Boy, did I send her sketches flying. I had to stop and help her pick them up, would have be rude of me to do otherwise. Am I right?"

For whatever reason, Yuji was always far too interested in any of the girl's he ever even spoke to. As strange as the fixation was, Masahiro chalked it up to his friend only wanting him to find a love as true as he had. From what he gathered, Yuji and Kameko had been married right out of highschool. "Oh yeah? So you met a girl?" Masahiro frowned slightly as he recalled the meeting he had encountered with the artist. "Yeah, an odd girl, but a girl nonetheless. She thought I was someone else." Both his friends took on a much greater look of interest as he relayed this bit of information, but both opted to stay quiet and not pose any questions. Kameko bit at her bottom lip, a habit which often showed that she was over thinking. "Well, that isn't all that odd. People often do that, you know?"

Yuji had already returned to his work, feigning disinterest, he didn't need to appear too eager for his friend to give more details. Masahiro sat down and opened his guitar case and carefully removed the instrument. He placed it beside the chair and began to straighten out the money he had made down by the Vltava river. "Sure they do, but even after getting a good look at me, she still called me by some random name. Yeah...Miroku, if I remember correctly." Had he not been so wrapped up in the task of counting the small sum he had received, he would have noticed the way his friend's spine had gone ridged. The drummer cleared his throat in hopes of keeping his voice steady. "Guess you really reminded her of the guy. Did you happen to get her name?"

Masahiro thought back for a moment before he responded. "No, I didn't ask for her name, I was running late by this point, but I did invite her to our set. Not sure if she'll actually come, but if she does you'll see her then." He stuck the cash inside a hidden pocket within a pouch in his backpack, before he grabbed his guitar and got to his feet. He figured they had talked enough about the woman, it's not as though he knew anything more about her. "Enough of that. We've got practice to have before we can go on tonight, besides, I have a new song I want to try out on you guys and this place has a piano."

The night was still young and although she wasn't sure if she wanted to go, Sango found herself asking Katsuo if he wanted to go listen to some live music at a pub. Since she didn't often frequent such establishments, her friend's sky blue eyes filled with curiosity as he looked at her. "What brought this idea to your mind?" She quickly relayed the story of what had occured earlier that afternoon and although he seemed entirely disinterested with the idea, his tune changed when she mentioned that he reminded her of the love she lost. She had always found Katsuo easy to talk to, he was her closest friend and most trusted confidant. She often spoke of Miroku to him, but she would do so in a way that made it sound as though the man had died. Mainly because he had, even if he had lived a full life, he was long dead by now, and the thought only made her heart ache.

She needn't say a word, his ever knowing blue gaze could read the pain that was etched on her face, so he placed an arm around her shoulders in a condoling manner. "If you want to go and do something different, then you know I'm in. So if you wanna go, then get dressed and let's go." He offered her one of his big grins, it always had a sorta wolfish quality, and had an uncanny ability to charm just about any girl he came across, Sango included. Yet even though both were single, nothing romantic ever bloomed between them, not that Sango hadn't tried. Much to her chagrin, he would shut down any advances she made, with claims that he didn't want to complicate things and ruin a great friendship. She returned his smile with one of her own, before jumping up and bounding into the bathroom. Perhaps Masahiro shared more than Miroku's face. She was eager to get to know him better and find out for herself.

The two had some trouble finding the local pub and by the time they had the sun had already set. The front of the building was lit up with a neon signs that boasted it's name, which she couldn't read, and what she thought was an open sign. Inside was abuzz with voices, music drifted out into the streets, and although the atmosphere was a relaxed one, Sango felt oddly nervous. Inside, the space was larger than it appeared to be from the outside. The tables that were placed along one side of the building were already taken, people danced in the center of the room in front of a small stage. Instruments waited unused for the band that would soon be playing them, for the moment the songs came from a small jukebox that was to the right of a crowded bar.

Sango stood close to her friend, as she scanned the area around her more closely, in search of the very familiar face. The music came to an end, as the jukebox played it's final song, and the noise died away considerably. She heard him long before she saw him, she could recognize the melodious laugh anywhere, and though she knew it wasn't really his, it still made her heart skip a beat. Katsuo could see the many different emotions flash across her features, first joy, then disappointment, followed by sadness. "Hey Sango, are you okay? You look as though something is bothering you." She glanced over to catch his eye, which were filled with a quiet concern, he always knew when she needed him. "He just looks so much like Miroku, he even sounds like him. His likeness is wonderful yet painful at the same time, mainly because I know it's not really him."

Sango couldn't help but be a bit comforted when she saw the small reassuring smile her friend offered her. "I know how you felt about Miroku, but don't let the past keep you from the future. Masahiro may not be your first real love, but that doesn't mean he can't be your last. Get to know him for who he is, you may be happy with what you find." Katsuo always was good with words, he seemed to know exactly what to say to her to make her feel better. "You know I love you, Katsuo. You're the best friend a girl could have." His smile brightened and his blue eyes danced with a silent laughter. "I know you do. I wouldn't want things to change between us for anything, because I love you too. So are you gonna go over there and tell him hello or at least let him know you came?"

The artist hesitated, a look of uncertainty marring her otherwise flawless features. "Maybe we shouldn't be here. I mean, he's not Miroku, I don't know what I was thinking. It's not fair to Masahiro, to expect him to fill in the space that Miroku left behind." Katsuo shrugged his broad shoulders , his clear blue eyes filled with a quiet concern. "Come now, Sango. You can't close yourself off to the possibility of love, just because you got hurt once. I mean, you haven't tried dating at all since your stay in Shikon Square." Sango smiled wryly, the photographer often spoke to her as the caring big brother type. "That's not true. I tried to start something with you, but you shut me down. Remember?" He chuckled softly, not the slightest bit hurt by her playful yet entirely true jab. "True enough, but I'd hate to risk the bond we already share. I like what we have and I know you do too. After all what would you do without my wonderful advice?"

Sango didn't want to admit that had things gone sour between them and they grew apart because a relationship didn't work out between them, she would regret ever dating him in the first place. "Don't make me admit that I was wrong. A lot of people wind up marrying their best friend, so it wasn't far fetched to believe that we could have such a relationship. You got any advice for me now?" Her friend eyed the musician carefully, as though he was trying to read the man's character before giving her any form of advice. Another of his classic smiles crept onto his ruggedly handsome face, then he turned to her and his blue eyes shimmered softly. "I say you go over there and say hello. Take it this way, you can never start a new journey if you're standing still, you gotta make a move. So, move."

It was in these moments that Katsuo reminded her of someone else she had met in Shikon Square, and the thought would always make her smile. "I sorta love that you talk like a fortune cookie, reminds me of someone I met along my travels, and because of that alone, I'll go say hello." She parted ways with her friend, he went to find them a couple seats, and she to go and talk to the musician with the painfully familiar face. The man stood with two others, a beautiful woman with a soft expression and a man with long dark hair and nearly golden hazel eyes. Once again the pang of familiarity struck at her heart. She couldn't understand why the faces of the past kept haunting her. She knew how absurd and impossible the whole notion was, but how could she ignore what was right in front of her.

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, they weren't them, she knew as much, and yet her heart could only hope. "Hey Mir...Masahiro." She stumbled over his name. How could she see anyone other than Miroku? Whether he caught the mistake or not, he chose not to let it show. Instead his indigo eyes landed on her, as he gazed at her through the lenses of his glasses, and that boyish smile, she knew all to well, graced his lips. "Oh, hey. Glad you could make it. I hope you brought your drawings and if you like my songs enough, you might even consider letting me know your name." His friends eyed her in near wonder, had she been paying attention to them, then she would have questioned why they seemed to be holding their breaths. Instead she could only feel the blush as it colored and warmed her cheeks. This man had the same affect Miroku had once had on her and she couldn't understand why. "I don't have to hear you play to be willing to share that much with you. It's Sango."

As soon as she spoke her name, Masahiro could feel the headache return full force, and with some effort he kept himself from wincing. "Sango. That's a lovely name." He watched as delight lit up her deep brown eyes, it was as though hearing him speak her name filled her with joy. His assumptions were right. Her name sounded as melodious to her when he said it, just as it would whenever the butler spoke it. Why did this man have the same affects on her? Why did he feel like the piece of her she had been missing? It left her wondering if he felt it too, not that she could ask, for she feared it would be far too strange a query. "Thank you. I'm really looking forward to hearing you play. So I'm gonna go find a seat." She offered him another smile, before she slipped back into the crowd. Her heart pounded in her ears and though she appeared steady, her entire body shook as she scanned the pub for Katsuo.

AN: I hope the wait for this sequel wasn't too long. I will try to finish this one quicker than I did The Artist, but I tend to get super busy as my personal life is crazy at times. Please leave a review, they really do make my day, and I will shot you out in the next chapter.


	3. Sheet Music

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, all rights to the characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi.

AN: Thank you Guest for your review. I really appreciate the feedback. As requested, I continued.

Part Three: Sheet Music

Sango had found her friend near the far end of the bar, he had saved her a barstool, and had already bought her some fruity cocktail. He took a sip from the contents of his glass before he turned his attention on her. "So how did it go? Did you talk to him?" The artist ran the tip of her index finger on the rim of her glass. "I mean I spoke to him, but we didn't talk much. He was about to go on and I didn't want to appear all weird." She picked up the glass and tasted the colorful beverage and the sweetness nearly covered up the bitter taste of the liquor. "I'm so shallow. I only came here because he looks like Miroku and I honestly don't know what I was expecting. He couldn't live up to the fantasy I had in my head, that guy is not going to all the sudden be like, it's me, Miroku."

She stared ahead, doing her best not to make eye contact with the man who set beside her, mainly because she feared to see a look of judgement on his face. "Hey. That doesn't make you shallow. I think anyone would wish they could bring back a lost loved one, if given the chance. I just suggest that you give him a fair chance to show you the kind a person he is. You might find that even though he isn't this Miroku guy, he's still someone who could make you just as happy." Sango wanted to speak, but before she could, the soft notes of a piano filled the pub. She faced the stage with wonder and there she discovered Masahiro seated before a piano. His fingers easily caressed soft notes from the ivory keys, serenity kept his features soft, and in that moment Sango saw the butler once more, in his true element.

Sango was awe struck and she listened to him intensely. The song he sang started off soft, it matched the lyrics which spoke of uncertainty, but as the emotions in the words built his voice swelled. The beating of the drums resounded like a pounding heart, taking the number higher, and all the artist could do was hold her breath and watch. This man. Who was he really? Why did he remind her of the man she loved in so many ways? She was being drawn towards a stranger like a moth to a flame. Katsuo didn't stop her when she slipped off of her stool and he didn't break the trance like state she was in. Sango needed to feel these emotions again and so he only observed her as she made her way through the crowd to stand in front of the stage.

On stage, Masahiro was still seated on the bench, the over head lights lit up his indigo eyes. Sango couldn't help but to think that he positively glowed and wondered if this was what Miroku would have sounded like had he ever sang for her. She absorbed the words, let them wash over her, as he sang about the pain of fighting anxiety. As the song reached it's end, the music took precedence, his vocal harmonies settled themselves into the background, and by the time the first number came to an end; Sango was entranced. She remained where she stood for the remainder of the bands performance and was wholly aware of the spell that had been place upon her.

Now that the show was over, Sango set with Masahiro at a small table in a cozy corner away from the others. She was showing him some of her best sketches, eager to impress him as much as he did her. His careful eye intently took in each one, as though he was trying to remember every detail. "You really are an amazing artist, Sango. These are splendid and I mean that whole heartedly" With some hesitation, Sango carefully removed the image of Silver Inu Manor, and placed it before him on the table. The indigo eyes she had come to love in another man fell upon the page and she could see him attempt to hide a wince. His left hand came up as he pressed two fingers to his temple in an attempt to keep the pain at bay.

The concern softened her features as she began to worry that he disliked her best work. "I was really proud of that one, the painting is better, but the sketches were still some of my best work. I thought you would like that one." He could hear the disappointment that laced her voice and when he looked up at her a heavy guilt struck his heart. The hurt she felt was written all over her face, he mentally kicked himself for not thinking about how the reaction to the throbbing ache would look. An artist is always easily hurt when someone hates their work, but that's not what his actions were about. "Your work really is impressive, this one included. It's just that ever since I first saw you painting at the park, I've been getting these headaches. Which is pretty weird, since I was never prone to them before."

He slid the page back over to her, his focus returned to paper, and a hint of recognition seemed to darken his eyes. "Does the place look familiar to you, Masahiro?" She tried to read the expressions on his face but found it rather difficult. "I feel like I've seen it before, maybe I've been to the place where it's located." The idea of Masahiro having been near the manor gave her the odd sensation of happiness. She almost believed that the manor would have been pleased to see such a familiar face after so many years of being completely void of inhabitants. Nothing lonelier than a house with no one to live in it. "So you've also been to Shikon Square? That's such a coincidence. I have never met someone else in my travels that has been there."

Shikon Square. Why did those words cause the room to spin and make his head feel like it would split in two? Sango grew silent as Masahiro groaned, he had quickly removed his glasses, and pressed his hand firmly on his left eye. "Are you okay?" He could hear her concerned voice question him, but she sounded so far away. "It's just my head, I don't know why I keep feeling like this. I'm not usually like this, I hope I've not made a bad second impression, because I know my first impression was a far cry from good." He had lowered his hand and slipped his glasses back into place. The smile he offered her was soft and endearing, she found herself growing more and more interested in him and she wanted to learn more about him.

Sango carefully placed her purse on the table and fished a small bottle from one of the pockets. She opened the lid, poured two pills into the palm of her hand, and offered them to him wordlessly. He took the offering with another smile, before he popped them into his mouth, and washed them down with water. "Thank you. I appreciate it. So, tell me. How long have you been painting and traveling?" Her heart became filled with glee, he wanted to know more about her as well, and that made her happy. "I've been traveling ever since I graduated from art school. I figured I could improve my craft by challenging myself to paint all the places and people that inspire me. And I believe I started getting really into art while I was in middle school."

Masahiro noted that her voice became a pitch higher whenever she talked about art, it told him that what she was doing was her true passion, and that was something he could understand. "That's a long time. I have to ask. Do you have anything hung in a gallery? I only ask because I really believe that your work is worthy of such an honor." The artist shifted in her seat uncomfortably, a bit unused to the high praises of her work, and his praises had her nervous and excited. "Thank you. That is such a high compliment and yes, I do have some in galleries. Honestly it's still something that I have a hard time grasping mentally. Just imagine hearing one of your songs on the radio, it would be like that."

He chuckled at her comparison, his eyes danced with amusement, and he left her dazzled without trying to. "I can't say that I know such a feeling, I haven't had that kind of opportunity unfortunately. It would be exciting though." Sango stared at the man in disbelief, she was sure that someone with his talents would have music producers chasing him down. "You mean you don't have a record deal? But you're amazing." He shrugged his broad shoulders nonchalantly, his gaze never left her face. "I guess I could have one, but I think it sounds far more romantic when I call myself a starving musical genius. It's kind of a more humble brag. Says I'm good, but not mainstream good. Know what I mean?" Sango heard her own laugh, it came so naturally, and happened before she could really think about it. "Nice. It does have a more romantic sound. I like the way you think, Masahiro."

The more she spoke with him, the more she liked him. It was strange that she had begun to see him as Masahiro and yet simultaneously she could still see Miroku. Like him, Masahiro was passionate, charming, funny, and witty. He spoke like him and had some of the same mannerisms. She sat and talked with him and they compared their travels and she learned that even though he loved music, he had gone to college and had received a degree in business. She praised his bravery for choosing to go off on his own on his journey of self discovery, that others may not have been strong enough to walk away from a sure thing. Whenever he spoke about his music and the places he had seen, it would light up his whole face, and she became that much more awed by him.

The bar had become nearly deserted and they only noticed when last call was announced. Masahiro glanced at the watch on his wrist before he offered her a dubious smile. "I hadn't realised how late it was. I hope I hadn't kept you out too long." Sango dismissed his worry with a casual flick of her wrist. "Not at all. I haven't had this much fun in quite a while. I really enjoyed your company, but I really should find my friend and go back to the hotel. I can give you my number though, if you would like to talk again." He nodded at her before he fished his phone out of his pocket. "I'd really like that. We have a lot in common and I definitely hope we'll be seeing each other again." The pair exchanged numbers and parted ways. Both very pleased with the way the evening had ended.

AN: I hope the wait for this sequel wasn't too long. I will try to finish this one quicker than I did The Artist, but I tend to get super busy as my personal life is crazy at times. Please leave a review, they really do make my day, and I will shot you out in the next chapter.


	4. Classical Music

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, all rights to the characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi.

Part Four: Classical Music

Night had draped the city in a deep velvet, the stars twinkled brightly overhead, and a peaceful quiet drifted through the streets. Masahiro laid in bed, beside him, in another bed, Yuji and Kameka already slept soundly, but his thoughts were on the artist. He couldn't sleep when such wonderful images flashed in his mind with vivid colors. Meeting her in the park was such happenstance and he really believed that his luck had taken a change for the better. Especially if he ignored the sudden onslaught of headaches that plagued him whenever she came around. He figured that such ailments were worth it, when Sango's company would be a much greater gain. The connection the two shared after such a short time was refreshing and Masahiro had every intention of seeing where things would go with her.

He sat up slowly, the rustling of the sheets had his male campanion opening his golden hazel eyes. He watched the musician in silence as the latter raked his hand through his hair, and sighed aloud. "Is something on your mind, Masahiro?" Indigo eyes darted towards the voice that was raspy with sleep, in the dark Yuji could still see the surprise on the man's face, he had thought himself the only one awake. "She's on my mind. That artist. There is just something about her. I feel like I've known her my whole life." If Yuji found his feelings to be a bit alarming or strange, he showed no signs, instead he offered his friend a reassuring smile. "That's what I would call a soul connection. Just like Kameka and I, you two were connected once before, so your souls recognized each other."

Masahiro had never believed in such things, even if one had a past life, he always figured that the soul would never recognize such things. "I don't know about all that, Yuji. It just seems so far fetched. I mean, what would be the odds of meeting another old soul when there are so many millions of people in the world." His smile faltered a bit, as if the words spoken were stark and painful to hear, but he pushed forward anyway. "Crazier things have happened. You can't deny that the two of us shared a quick and strong bond and I truly believe that you and I shared a past life together." Masahiro should have known what his friend's opinion would be on this matter. The guy strongly believed in reincarnation.

"Maybe you're right. There has got to be some explanation for the effect she has on me. I'm gonna call her tomorrow and see if she would like to travel together for a while. I would hate to let it end so quickly." He figured Yuji would try to convince him not to invite the woman along, he typically told him that a relationship would get in the way of his music. "I say go for it. It wouldn't hurt to ask, I mean, she might agree." Masahiro couldn't hide the utter shock he felt, that was not anything like the response he was expecting. "Really? So you're not gonna tell me what a distraction she'll be? What's gotten into you tonight?" The drummer gave him a knowing look, almost as though he had read his friend's mind. "I like her and I think as someone with artistic tendencies herself, she will understand your work and allow you to be you."

Yuji laid his head back onto his pillow and his hushed voice once again broke into the silence of the night. "Just try and get some sleep, we have another long day ahead of us tomorrow, and if you don't get enough rest those headaches you kept getting today will come back full force." The advice lingered in the air, as Masahiro settled back into bed, and closed his eyes. Sleep crept up on him slowly, he slid into the dream realm without a fight, and his subconscious took reign. The dream he slipped into was quiet, he stood in a large kitchen, giving a plump cook an order for lunch. Just as the chef began to shoo him away, so he could return his focus to his work, the chime of the doorbell announced the arrival of an unexpected guest.

He swept through the kitchen with fluid steps and entered into an opulent dining room. The sun that streamed through the window, sparkled off the crystal chandelier, and colorful prisms of light danced on the walls. He entered into a pristinely clean foyer, his white gloved hands smoothed away the wrinkles on his suit, and with grace he opened the door. Behind the wooden apparatus he discovered the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Before he could even truly consider his words, he gave her the standard greeting for the manor. He managed to keep his poise, even when she spoke, and her voice draped over him with lyrical perfection. She wanted to speak with the lord of Silver Inu and request permission to paint the grand home that stood over the village of Yu.

He granted her entrance and guided her towards the parlor and though it pained him, he left her to go and fetch the master of the house. He stood outside his lord's study before he firmly rapped on the door with his knuckles. He waited for just a mere moment when a gruff voice rang out, "Enter." He did as was ordered of him and swept into the dimly lit room, the white haired lord was seated behind a large oak desk, and kept himself busy with books in hopes of finding a way for them to break the curse without the help of a stranger. "Lord Inuyasha, it appears that we have a visitor. She is an artist and she wants to stay in the village to do a painting of Silver Inu. She may very well be the one to free us. I must insist that you go and speak with her at once."

Inuyasha eyed him skeptically, the man was so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed the appearance of his wife, and was only snapped out of his reverie when that lady clapped her hands together in excited delight. "Oh! Allow me to greet her first, while you get yourself prepared to speak with her. I do love guests and it's been so long since we last had one." She need not wait for her husband to grant her premission to go down first. Kagome was never one to allow Inuyasha to make all the calls in the manor. She practically ran down the hallway, leaving the two men alone in the study. "Don't just sit there. I implore you to make haste and grant her any wish she may desire."

Inuyasha lifted a thick brow, he had never seen the butler filled with such hope and excitement. "What makes you think that she will not merely leave as the others before her had?" He wasn't sure as to why he had such trust in the stranger, but something about her caused such a flutter in his stomach. "I cannot say, sir. I just have this feeling. I would explain it to you, if I had the words to, but alas I do not." Golden eyes peered at the butler with intensity, it lingered a moment, but faded slowly as realisation dawned on him. He recognized this look, the feeling, even though he had only ever felt it once in his life. "I must ask you to tread carefully, you will be walking a wire, my friend, and if you fall, well I am sorry to say that you will never be the same."

He supressed a smile, if only to spare his butler anymore confusion. As it appeared, the man had yet to figure out what the stirrings he experienced meant. The poor man was doomed, just as he had been when he first met Kagome. Inuyasha removed himself from his desk chair, prepared to allow the artist into his home, and with the hopes that she would be the one to free them from their curse. "Miroku, let us go. I am fully prepared to greet our guest. Take me to her." The lord left his study, his bare feet padded softly on the hard wood floor, and the butler groaned outwardly at his lord's lack of manner. He turned on his heel and called out to him in an exasperated manner. "Sir, you really should put on shoes before meeting the guest." His lord grunted indignantly, in a way that was strictly his own. "Give it a rest, would ya, Miroku? It's not like I care about such things anyway, shoes are stupid."

He stepped back, opting to not follow up with a second attempt at convincing the man to put on his shoes. He watched as the master practically barged into the room like an utter madman and all he could do was pray that his antics wouldn't scare away the fair artist. She appeared unfazed if but a bit surprised that such a man could call himself a lord. He could only watch on in silence as the lord and lady spoke with the woman, he was so enraptured by her beauty that he almost hadn't heard the orders made of him. He bowed quickly and parted to fetch the refreshments for the small party gathered in the parlor. He returned with the tea and dumplings and chose to pour the artist a cup first. "Tea, miss?" The simple question had caused her delicate cheeks to color and her eyes avoided his gaze.

The simple reaction delighted the butler and a small smile played across his lips. He would have to see what other feelings he could elicit on her fine face. He wanted to reach out and brush her hand with his finger tips, but resisted the urge. Instead he kept to the task of pouring the tea and was disappointed when after the task was complete, Lord Inuyasha dismissed him from the room. With a collected calm he left the room and he only hesitated once he had closed the door behind him. If only because he knew that he would have plenty of time to get to know the woman. So he continued back up the corridors and busied himself with the tasks assigned to him daily.

Masahiro woke with a start, his mouth was painfully dry, and the pounding headache throbbed behind his left eye once more. He grasped for the pieces of the dream, which had at one point been so vividly clear, but now faded away all too quickly. The clear faces grew fuzzy and the names he had heard within the deepest recesses of his mind became a slur of sounds he could no longer hear. He climbed out of bed and made his way towards the sink, he grabbed a plastic cup, and filled it with water from the tap. He swallowed it down in one gulp, trying to get the sensation of having a mouth full of sand to abate. He raked his fingers through his hair before glancing in the mirror. He splashed his face with cold water in hopes of softening the dark circles that had formed under his eyes. The dreams must have kept him from sleeping as soundly as he would have liked. Today would be a long day indeed.

AN: This story is coming along quite nicely. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think. I will be sure to thank anyone who does review in my next chapter and feel free to check out my other stories.


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